


Untitled.

by Auxvia



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Baggage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:50:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auxvia/pseuds/Auxvia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick drabble I did, originally posted on my (old) fic blog i-ve-got-him.tumblr.com. Implied abuse, mentions Worick & Nic's fathers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled.

**Author's Note:**

> originally inspired by this post here: http://empyreanine.tumblr.com/post/126412023252

Nicolas scrubbed at his face, watching the pink-tinted water swirl down the drain. There were flakes of dried blood from his hair falling in as well, and he knew he’d have to take a shower. Later. Right now he ached, celebrer wearing off and leaving him a miserable, shivering wreck. He dried his face off with a hopefully-clean towel, glancing in the mirror and resisting the need to flinch as he met his own tired, black eyes. He knew he shared plenty of traits with his mother— (his father was white, leaving his decidedly asian features to his mother)—but there were times when he recognized the curve of his mouth or the lines of his jaw, or the lines forming around his eyes. The blood coming off his hands under the warm water was familiar too, because hadn’t he seen blood on his fathers hands? Hadn’t it so many times been his own? The memories briefly became to much, blinding him as for a second, it was his father in the mirror staring back at him. He jerked his gaze down to the sink, his hands gripping the porcelain so tightly that it would’ve broken if he were still high. He noticed with a flash of shame that he was shaking, so fucking weak—

He was broken from his revere by a vibration of flesh against tile. Worick had smacked the wall to get his attention, worry written across his face. 

“Are you okay?” Worick asked, lazily doing the motions as well in case Nic needed them. Nicolas realized belatedly that he must’ve made some kind of noise, feeling the ghost of a sound in his throat, and no wonder Worick looked so frightened, Nic was usually dead silent unless he was fighting or muscling out words. Nicolas nodded jerkily, turning back to the sink to finish washing up before thinking better of it, brushing past Worick and heading for the stairs. Worick just ran a hand through his hair and watched him head down to his room. Nicolas was sometimes a little jittery on comedowns, a little more close to crazy then he normally strayed. He and Nicolas didn’t really talk about their respective freak-outs, simply made sure that the other was okay before continuing to pretend that it never happens. Nicolas didn’t bring it up when he would periodically find Worick silently crying, hunched over so nobody could see his face, his arms up around his head protectively as a remnant from his violent childhood. Worick returned the favor by not mentioning when Nicolas would wake up screaming, his wails loud and unnatural. The worst is when he wouldn’t wake himself up, and Worick would have to go downstairs, making his feel fall heavy on the stairs so Nic could wake up and collect himself before Worick peered in and asked if he was okay. 

So Worick just turned around and went back into the bathroom, letting the water run so the bits of blood Nic left wouldn’t stain the sink. He just needed to sleep it off, work past the inevitable crash at the end of his high. Worick sighed, carefully avoiding looking in the mirror as he cleaned. It disturbed him, how much he was looking more and more like his old man every day. 


End file.
